


The Gift That Keeps On Giving

by creepy_crawly



Series: Happy Hoe-lidays [2]
Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Daddy Kink, M/M, Phone Sex, Secret Relationship, Sex Toys, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:44:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21880141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepy_crawly/pseuds/creepy_crawly
Summary: There’s no name, but he’s more certain than ever that this package has come from one of his close friends--the ones close enough to know his addressandhis more, uh, intimate habits. Also, he’s certain that he is grateful that they shipped it to him here; there are some things that he doesnotneed SM Entertainment knowing about him, and his preferred dildo size is one of them.
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho & Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Kim Minseok | Xiumin/Lu Han
Series: Happy Hoe-lidays [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576189
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	The Gift That Keeps On Giving

**Author's Note:**

> So, about a month ago, Certain Friends (who know who they are) shared a link to a tweet. And that tweet was a picture of...[well](https://spartanlover.com/products/realistic-dildo-sex-doll-silicone-tight-torso-entry-mens-full-size-3d-love-doll-with-lifelike-big-penis-for-women-or-gay?variant=31032693227618/%22). A sex doll. Named Bruce. With an awfully familiar face. (There is NOTHING SFW about that link. Don't open it at work/around parents/near children.)
> 
> Suffice to say, in the ensuing cackling, there was discussion of what if one of the members bought it for Junmyeon. Who would buy it? Would Junmyeon pose it around the apartment? Would I be able to write this without laughing myself sick?
> 
> The answers to the first two are in the following fic, and the answer to the final one is, "yeah, so...I was doing good until I had to look up the shipping weight specs of a sex doll on my parents' WiFi."

Yawning, Junmyeon digs around in the pocket of his overcoat for the access card to his apartment’s inner door. Normally, the doorman would be here, would greet him and let him in--he’s lived in this apartment building since he moved out of the dorms he shared with his members--but it’s too late for that tonight. After a certain point, access to the main body of the building is locked to keycards and access codes, much like the doors to the individual apartments. It’s one of the security features he pays so much for, and so Junmyeon doesn’t mind having to jump through all the hoops. It’s worth it, after all, to not deal with strangers at his door, or, worse, in his apartment. Jongin’s had to deal with that, recently, even, and he’s now just waiting for a unit to open in Junmyeon’s building.

As he slides in through the doors, Junmyeon shivers. It’s a lot warmer inside the lobby, and that, more than anything, drives home just how chilly it is outside. Winter in Seoul is no joke; while the temperatures themselves this week haven’t been too bad, the wind has been strong and biting. A manager had come to his door this morning to get him, so Junmyeon hadn’t been outside long enough to need more than his wool overcoat. However, he has returned home by himself, and let the driver drop him off at the gate to the complex. It’s a decision he regretted pretty quickly, but by then, it had been made.

He checks the mailbox with his number on it, more out of habit than anything. Junmyeon doesn’t expect there to be anything in it; his fanmail goes through the company, his bills are handled digitally, and anyone else is likely to reach him through the agency. His family emails him, or calls him, even. But habit is habit, and checking the mailbox feels a bit more like being a real adult.

To his surprise, there’s a small slip of paper in the mailbox. Startled, he pulls it out and takes a look.

_ Mr Kim J-ssi _ , the slip reads,  _ a package has been delivered for you by verified shipping company. I have taken the liberty of placing it inside your unit. _ It’s signed by the building manager.

Junmyeon raises an eyebrow at the slip, but tucks it into his pocket. It’s not the first time he’s received a package, and the building manager or security have placed it in his apartment, but it’s certainly not a common occurrence by any stretch. Normally, even he ships things to his agency or to the company; the only things he has shipped to himself previously have been birthday presents for his manager or the occasional purchase he daren’t let the company be aware of, and that he’s even too embarrassed to let go through the (admittedly circuitous) routes of Chanyeol’s sister or Amber.

Junmyeon ponders the mystery while he punches in the security code in the elevator, riding up to his unit. He’s not expecting anything right now, but that doesn’t mean that this isn’t something similar to the sorts of things he would ship to himself. There are some people who know his tastes, and who would be comfortable--and amused--enough to send him such things. Hell, he even works with some of them, though he hasn’t seen Lee Taemin  _ or  _ Baekhyun recently enough for either them to have gotten it into their heads to send him another sex toy.

It’s the work of a moment to let himself in, and then Junmyeon is staring at a  _ gigantic _ box in the foyer of his apartment.

Suspicious—that is a  _ massive _ box—Junmyeon checks the label. Sure enough, it’s been shipped to him, at this address. He doesn’t recognise the address that it shipped from, but there’s a company name, so it’s likely it was shipped straight from the company. There’s a card in a little plastic envelope window on the label, and he tugs it out.

_ Merry Christmas!! _ is the first typed line, and then,  _ Even if you don’t celebrate it. Maybe this will give you something to celebrate ;-) _

There’s no name, but he’s more certain than ever that this package has come from one of his close friends--the ones close enough to know his address  _ and _ his more, uh, intimate habits. Also, he’s certain that he is grateful that they shipped it to him here; there are some things that he does  _ not _ need SM Entertainment knowing about him, and his preferred dildo size is one of them.

Rolling his eyes, Junmyeon steps out of his shoes and kicks them towards the shoe rack the lines one wall of the foyer. His overcoat gets tossed on top of the bench, on top of a couple of other jackets and sweatshirts, as well as a few hats, scarves, and other knitted goods. He hangs the face mask he uses to hide the lower half of his face and keep it warm on one of the hooks meant for jackets; his keyfob goes on another.

He gets another surprise when he goes to move the box--it weighs a lot more than he was expecting.

“I swear to god,” Junmyeon mutters, stooping once more to move the box, using his knees this time. “If one of those assholes got me a dildo statue...and expects me to display it…!”

This time, ready for how heavy the box is, he manages to shift it over the lip up into the entryway. From there, it’s relatively easy to just shove the box towards the area he uses as a living room--not that it sees as much use as he wishes it did. After a moment’s contemplation, he ducks into the kitchen and grabs a pair of scissors--not good kitchen shears, because Kyungsoo  _ does _ occasionally come over to rant and therapeutically cook, and would cheerfully murder him--from the junk drawer. To be fair, that drawer sees more use than just about any other part of the kitchen.

Checking the package again, and, again, finding no clues about who sent it, or what they sent, Junmyeon sighs. He slides the blade of the scissors under one layer of tape, and starts cutting his way into the box.

\---

“Which one of you assholes,” Jongin reads aloud, leaning back into Taemin’s massaging hands, “did this.”

“What’s ‘this’?” Taemin asks, even as he starts digging his fingers into his friend’s shoulders. He leans forward, trying to get a look at the screen of Jongin’s phone.

“No clu--oh, wait, photo loading.”

As the image loads, both men gape. 

\---

“How can you call someone who sends you  _ that _ an asshole?” Jongdae asks, not even trying to hide his laughter. “It even has interchangeable dicks!”

“If I didn’t know that you wouldn’t have been able to resist the urge to sign the card,” Junmyeon hisses at him. “It’s a  _ sex doll _ , Jongdae!”

Jongdae hoots a laugh. “It’s not  _ just _ a sex doll, hyung. It’s a sex doll that  _ looks like your ex _ . With  _ interchangeable dicks _ .” He pauses, then adds, “by the way. Either of those accurate? Close to accurate? I mean, I’ve seen him soft, but…”

Junmyeon makes a sound strangely akin to a cat being stepped on. “I’m not telling you about Yifan’s dick! Why do you do this to me, Jongdae?”

“If I didn’t, Sehun would,” Jongdae says, calm. “And, be honest, you’d rather deal with me than with him right now.”

“I refuse to admit anything,” Junmyeon replies. “Now, do you have any idea who sent this, or are you just calling to laugh?”

“Double-tasking,” Jongdae shamelessly admits. “As for who--honestly, no clue, hyung. I’m sorry. About that, at least.”

Wordlessly, Junmyeon moans. “What am I even gonna do, Jongdae?”

“I mean, if you need to be told how to use a sex doll, hyung…”

“I hate you so much.”

\---

“I can’t throw it out!” Junmyeon whines, throwing himself dramatically down on the bed beside Baekhyun. He’s come over to the apartment Baekhyun’s been sharing with the other SuperM members, less for sympathy--he knows better than to expect that from any of his members, at this point--than for their regularly-schedule wine whine. “What if someone sees it in the trash?”

“Oh my god,” Baekhyun squawks, sitting bolt upright. “They’d think it was a corpse. They’d think you were a murderer!”

“I think they’d figure out the truth pretty quickly,” Junmyeon says, scowling at his friend.

Baekhyun grins down at him, reaching out to tap his hyung’s nose. “That you’re a horrible pervert?”

“That my friends are assholes?” Junmyeon shoots back. “I’m not the one who bought him!”

“Ah, but you’ve  _ kept _ him,” Baekhyun says. “And  _ dressed  _ him, if Kyungsoo was telling the truth.”

This time, it’s Junmyeon that sits up. “Listen,” he snaps, jabbing a finger at Baekhyun, “I sure as hell wasn’t keeping him sitting around my apartment  _ naked _ !”

Baekhyun laughs. “Okay, but that just implies that you had some of Yifan-hyung’s clothes still in your apartment. Which means you  _ moved them _ to your  _ new apartment _ when you left the dorms. And that? That’s just  _ sad _ .”

Junmyeon straightens his spine. “His face may look like Yifan’s, but he’s not actually Yifan, you know.”

Raising an eyebrow, Baekhyun smirks. “Hyung. Hyung, you can’t lie to me. Not about that, anyway. Kyungsoo was in your apartment, remember. He told me aaaallll about your new guest. Including the fact that he’s taller than you. But his clothes fit.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Junmyeon huffs, flopping backwards.

\---

“I hear you’ve been having some drama.”

Junmyeon melts beneath the warm familiarity of the voice purring in his ear. “Hey, baby,” he sighs, letting himself relax. This is not an unexpected call--it’s planned, scheduled, even--but somehow, it hits him anew every time. “Do not even get me started.”

On the other end of the phone, Yifan snorts out one of his giggle-like laughs. “Hi, love. Rough week?”

Whining wordlessly, Junmyeon rolls onto his side, turning to face the bluetooth speaker his lover’s voice comes from. “How did you even find out?”

“TaoTao,” Yifan answers promptly. He then adds, “who heard from Yixing, who heard from Sehun  _ and _ saw photos from Kyungsoo.”

“Oh, god,” Junmyeon groans, raising his hands to hide his face. “Why is this my life?”

Yifan laughs. “I mean, I had been wondering what I had done with that shirt…”

“That is a dirty lie, and you know it, Wu Yifan,” Junmyeon answers. “You left that shirt here deliberately. Said you liked to see me in it.”

“I like to see you in anything of mine,” Yifan agrees. “Almost as much as I like to see you in nothing.”

Despite himself, and the fact that’s an awful line, Junmyeon shivers. The purr is back in Yifan’s voice, and while they’ve been back and forth on their relationship, the “on” part of the off and on has been frequent enough that certain things have gotten hardwired. 

Certain things, like what that particular purr of Yifan’s voice means…

“Miss you,” he finds himself saying, the words stumbling forth with no warning. “It’s been a while since we...since we’ve actually. You know. Been together. Not just for sex, but...for anything.”

He’s feeling strangely maudlin all the sudden. The end of the year tends to do this to him, turn him into a reflective, sappy mess. Yifan doesn’t mind--he knows he doesn’t. He sometimes even thinks that Yifan likes it, a little, the way Junmyeon goes all soft and squishy, a little sad, a little more prone to reaching out for cuddles.

Then again, the past few years, they’ve been able to line up their schedules so that they get a little time off together, to share the end of the year with each other, reconnecting emotionally and physically.

“I know, sweetheart,” Yifan says, sounding a little sad himself. “I promise you, love, I’m doing what I can to get schedules worked out.”

Junmyeon shakes his head. “Baby, don’t go out of your way. I don’t want you, like, making things harder on yourself. I know you’re trying. I know you’ve been trying. I’ve been trying. Some years, it just can’t work out, I guess.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to like it,” Yifan says. “Just means that I’ll have to be extra sure that you’re getting enough loving.”

Rolling onto his back, Junmyeon smiles. “You always do, Yifan.”

“Well, good,” the other man says. “I can’t be leaving you wanting. Not unless that’s the plan.”

“I hate it when that’s the plan.”

Yifan giggle-laughs again. “No, you don’t. You beg so prettily, after all. Especially when I make you wait.”

Junmyeon whines and kicks his feet against the mattress. “Yifan, stop being such a cocktease! I just told you that I was missing you!”

“Missing me, sure,” Yifan says. “You said nothing about missing my dick.”

“Pretty sure you’re attached to it, Fan,” Junmyeon deadpans. 

“I mean, I heard that my replacement has swappable ones…”

“WU YIFAN!”

\---

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Junmyeon mutters, more to himself than anything, as he runs a spit-slick hand over the large cock in front of his face.

“Can’t say I’m not surprised you agreed,” Yifan admits, the speaker conveying the rustling of sheets as he leans further back into the pile of pillows he’s gotten lumped up at the head of his bed. For a brief second, his large hand fills the screen as he adjusts the angle of whatever screen he’s watching on.

Junmyeon’s eyes flicker sideways and up, to where his phone is propped, camera looking right at him, screen showing Yifan, shirtless and waiting. He can see the hunger in the other man’s eyes, and feels a blush start heating his cheeks. “It’s not like I’ve had a problem with phone sex,” he grumbles.

Yifan smiles at him, a crooked grin that’s nonetheless softened by care. “Phone sex, no,” he agrees. “You do do such a lovely job letting me hear you, especially when you’ve got one of those toys you love so much on hand. But you’ve never let me watch you riding them, before.”

“Shut up,” Junmyeon says, not a lick of heat or complaint in his voice. He stills his hand on the cock in front of him, turns his attention to Yifan. “Never let you watch me suck a cock that’s not yours before, have I?”

“Mm, no,” Yifan breathes, sheets rustling again. “Gonna let me see you put that sweet little mouth to work tonight?”

Eyes sparkling wickedly, Junmyeon grins. “Oh, yeah. Can’t let you forget how good I look on my knees, after all.” And, with that, he opens his mouth wide and starts swallowing down the silicone dick attached to his still-mysterious present.

Yifan groans, remembering the slick, hot feel of his lover’s mouth, the tight press of his throat as he’s taken all the way in. “Yeah, honey,” he says, eyes fixed on the way Junmyeon’s lips mold around the false skin. “That’s it. Take that cock. All the way, baby.”

Junmyeon groans at the encouragement, sound muffled around the silicone on his mouth. Eyes falling shut--it’s easier to think of this shape as Yifan’s, if he can only hear him--he starts bobbing his head, working his tongue in the way that always drives Yifan up the wall. He can hear his lover’s breathing picking up, going fast and rough, and he lets himself fall into the fantasy.

He runs his hands up and down those thick thighs, more to get a feel of how they cage him in than to try and control anything. There is nothing quite as empowering as the feel of a giant of a man reduced to hovering over him in desperation, just from what his mouth can do. He drags his nails backwards, a tease of sensation, up those thighs, up and up to narrow hips. Seizing those, he wraps his hands around to get a good grasp on the plush ass that’s just right there, helping thrust the cock a little deeper into his throat.

“You’re doing so good,” Yifan breathes, voice coming from near Junmyeon’s shoulder. “Oh, kitten, love how you do that. You look so good with a dick down your throat. Mmm, yeah. Junnie…”

With a soft whimper, Junmyeon brings a hand up to cradle the base of the cock he wishes was Yifan’s. He can feel testicles against the back of his hand, and he’s never wanted to have a man pulling his hair more than he does now. He wants to feel Yifan’s stupidly-long fingers sinking into his hair, tangling around the longer strands, wants the heat of his massive palm warm against his scalp, wants the accidental, eager tugs and the apologetic stroking. Listening to the slick sounds of Yifan’s hand on his cock, his huffed breathing, the low groans that rumble up from his throat… Junmyeon craves. He  _ wants _ .

He pulls off with a long, dirty slurp, letting his lips pop as he breaks suction around the head. “Yifan,” he croaks, not opening his eyes until he is facing the camera and can see Yifan watching him. “Please, Fan-ge. I want…”

Yifan groans, Junmyeon using that endearment in that voice tearing through him in a wonderfully delicious spike of temptation. His hand, out of view of the camera, speeds up; Junmyeon can see the way his arm flexes, can hear the sheets rustling. “Tell me, love,” he grunts. “Tell me what you want.”

Junmyeon reaches down and gives his own cock a quick, hard squeeze. “Want you, please, Daddy,” he whines, completely aware of how he sounds, completely uncaring. When it comes to Yifan, Junmyeon _knows_ what buttons to push. As much as he loves being his tiny, delicate hellcat, Yifan loves pushing him to the breaking point, loves hearing Junmyeon begging for his cock, begging for him to “use his tiny little hole.” Yifan has had him on his back, wailing and whining, has fucked him into the floor on all fours until his arms have given out and it’s only his arms protecting his face from rugburn, has eaten him out until he’s been screaming fit to bring the walls down. A little demanding whining is _nothing_.

“God,” Yifan gasps, tossing his head back.

Junmyeon stares hungrily at the long stretch of throat this move reveals, thinking distantly of how it would taste to trace the lines of sweat up along Yifan’s throat, up to his mouth, his jaw. “Daddy,” he begs. “Please. Let me...let me have it?”

With a hungry sound, Yifan brings his gaze back to Junmyeon. “Oh, sweetie, you can have whatever you want.  As much cock as you can stand. I’ll fill you up so deep you’ll feel me for days.  Whatever you want, baby. You just gotta be careful for me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon agrees, breathless. He reaches back, feels the base of the plug he worked into himself earlier. The pressure of his fingers jars it, just so, and he clenches down around it. Oh, but he loves the feeling of having something in him; this plug isn’t as big as Yifan is, which means it’s got nothing on the cock his fake Yifan has, but it still feels  _ so good _ .

Yifan watches him closely, luxuriating in the way Junmyeon’s eyes go hazy, the way his jaw sags a little. “You followed my instructions, kitten?” he purrs, watching Junmyeon’s hand sliding behind himself. “You opened yourself up earlier?”

Junmyeon nods furiously. “I did,” he says. “I did, Daddy, I promise, please, let me-”

“Shh, shh,” Yifan soothes him. “My baby boy is so good, aren’t you? But I need to be sure. Can’t let you get hurt, sweetheart. I have to know you’re loose enough.”

“Wearing our plug,” Junmyeon babbles, pressing his face into the edge of the mattress as he reaches behind himself once more. “The one you got me. The pretty one.”

“The pretty one with the jewels?” Yifan asks him. “Let me see it, Junnie. Let me see our pretty plug holding you open. Keeping you ready for that cock.”

Junmyeon sobs out a groan. He reaches forward with a trembling hand, gathering up the phone. He settles it carefully against the leg of the bed, then turns himself around. Lowering his face to the soft carpet he keeps beside his bed, he reaches back and spreads his ass for Yifan to get a better look.

Yifan sucks in a breath. “Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” he says, his hand sliding back down between his thighs. Junmyeon’s ass looks so good, clenching fitfully, desperately, around the jewelled base of the plug.  _ Junmyeon _ looks so good, presenting himself like this. Yifan’s never wanted to be able to reach out and touch more.

“Is it pretty?” Junmyeon begs. “Looks good?”

“Looks  _ so _ good,” Yifan tells him. “Oh, honey, you look so pretty. Good enough to eat, I swear. Wish I was there. Wanna get my mouth on you. Eat you up, ‘til you’re begging for me. Begging me to fill you up.”

A high-pitched whine tears itself from Junmyeon’s throat as his hands fall away from his ass, reaching up to his hair to tug. “Please, Daddy. Please, need it, need it, need you.”

“I know, babydoll,” Yifan says, “I know. Need you, too. God, love, want to have you sitting on my cock. Want to feel your tight little ass squeezing me so hard.”

Junmyeon whines again, tossing his head against the floor. “Daddy, please. Please let me!”

Yifan groans. “Okay, okay. Go ahead, pull your plug out. Let Daddy see how stretched you are.”

Junmyeon reaches back with a single, shaking hand. Seizing the end of the plug, he pulls. He moans at the tug and the stretch, his back arching. Soon, however, he’s left empty and needing.

“Oh, kitten, you look so good,” Yifan murmurs. “Did just like Daddy asked, didn’t you? Stretched yourself all good and open?”

“I did, I did,” Junmyeon tells him. Reaching back with his other hand, so that they’re both in view of the camera once more, he slides three fingers into himself. He makes a low noise at the feeling of being not-empty once more, but it’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough. “See?” he pants. “I opened myself for Daddy's cock.”

Yifan groans, jerking his cock harder as he watches his boyfriend splaying his fingers in his own ass, stretching himself open to let him know how ready he is to be fucked. How is this even a thing he gets to see? How is it that he, Wu Yifan, gets to see this beautiful man, desperate and wanting, for him?

“Baby, you’re beautiful,” Yifan manages, biting his lip and forcing himself to look back at the camera. “So good for me, Junnie. So perfect, my sweet little kitten. You ready for that cock? Ready to let it stretch you open? Gonna let me hear you take it in? It’s awful big for a little thing like you...”

Junmyeon moans. “Yes,  _ please _ ,” he begs. “Please, I’m so ready, I want it, I want it, please…!”

“Go ahead,” Yifan says. “Let me see how good you take that cock, honey.”

There’s a dizzying whirl of motion, on both sides of the cameras. Yifan’s leaning back in his bed, wrapping one hand firmly around his dick, the other tilting his screen so he doesn’t miss a thing. At the same time, Junmyeon’s scooping his phone back up, climbing up onto his bed, looking for the best angle to prop it up so that Yifan can see.

He settles on an angle that hides his face, but focuses on the large, fake dick rising from a tidy nest of fake curls on the fake human currently sitting on his bed. He has to push the doll’s torso back a bit, so it’s more like he’s leaning back for him, but that’s the work of moments, and Junmyeon’s mind is on better things, besides.

His ass looks great. He  _ knows _ his ass looks great; he’s spent enough time in the gym and being critiqued by coordis, trainers, members, and fans alike. Furthermore, he knows  _ Yifan _ thinks he has a great ass. Man certainly touches it, talks about it, eats it enough. So, yes, he thinks that this is the best angle.

For now, anyway.

He’s not sure who groans louder as he spreads his ass and sinks down on the toy’s dick--himself, or his lover on the other end of the phone line. It feels  _ so good _ , for all that it’s an advanced piece of plastic and wire, and he can only imagine what it must look like. That hyper-realistic cock sliding into him, stretching him wider and wider as he sinks down, ‘til his ass is pressed against fake pubes, cradled between fake, muscular thighs.

He finds himself reaching up, wrapping his arms around the doll’s broad shoulders, the way he clings to Yifan when he’s riding him like this. It’s stabilising. And comforting; he likes the feel of another man’s chest against his own when he’s in this intimate a position.

“Oh, Junnie,” Yifan groans. “Baby, does that feel good? That big cock feel good, stretching you open? Touching deep inside?”

“So deep,” Junmyeon pants, his face tucked in the crook of the doll’s neck. It’s neither as warm nor as soft as Yifan’s, but with just a little imagination…

“You look so good, sweetheart,” Yifan says. “God, what I wouldn’t give to be there, be watching right up close while you stuff your tiny ass with that much cock.” He grunts again, his hand moving faster. “Tell me how it feels, lovely. Tell Daddy how good it feels to fuck yourself with your nice new toy.”

Junmyeon starts rolling his hips, arching against the doll. Eyes squeezed shut, he thinks about Yifan watching this, watching him fuck himself on another man’s cock. Thinks about him sitting in the chair in the corner, or on the edge of the bed, just watching as Junmyeon, dwarfed by someone else’s wide form, grinds down against another lap, as he levers himself up on another pair of broad shoulders, as he sinks back down, down, down, groaning low in his throat. Thinks about his heavy breathing, the increasingly wet sound of his hand on his cock…

“Yes,” he moans, his head falling back on his shoulders. “God, Daddy,  _ yes _ . Feels so good. So big, oh my god, Daddy, it’s so big. Feels so good!”

An answering groan ripples through the humid air. “Yeah, baby? That big cock stretching you open? Fucking you deep?”

As if to prove something, Junmyeon rises once more, then lets himself drop, riding the doll’s cock with something akin to desperation. “S-so deep,” he says, a shiver trembling down the length of his spine. He feels so small, like the doll could just wrap around him, pin him in place. The way Yifan does. He lets his hips rock a little, reminding himself how easily he fits in this lap, seating himself fully again and again. “I’m...I’m so full. It’s...it’s...oh! Daddy! God, it’s so good!”

“Oh, JunJun, that’s it,” Yifan says. His voice is rough around the edges, like his control is shaking loose with every single sound. “That’s it. Ride that big cock for me, honey. Such a greedy little thing like you--mm, you gotta work for it, don’t you, Junnie? If you want all that dick filling you up and stretching out your greedy little hole, you’re going to have to put in some effort. Come on. Let me see you take what you want.”

Junmyeon gasps out a breath, his hips rising and falling more rapidly now. Unconsciously, he sinks into the rhythm that works the best when he’s riding Yifan, a rising, rolling, swift sinking wave that buries his partner deep inside him, strokes across his sweet spot, and gives him the burn-edged stretching friction he craves.

“Oh, Daddy, please. Please, love,” he begs, his thighs starting to tremble from the exertion. They’re spread wide across the doll’s lap, and he has to push himself up pretty far to get the sweet drag of a cockhead against his most sensitive places.

“Please, what, kitten?” Yifan asks, words temporarily drowning out the slick slide of his own hand wrapped around his cock, moving in time with Junmyeon’s motions. “What do you need, Junnie?”

“Need--need--” But what he needs, Junmyeon can’t seem to get out. Instead, the words get trapped around the same place that his thoughts are--a half-step from realised, right between too much and not enough. 

A frustrated, wordless garble of a scream and moan tears itself loose from Junmyeon’s throat, and he falls forward, burying his face in the doll’s silicone neck once more. The plastic has warmed up, is nearly skin-temperature, now, but it still doesn’t have quite the same give as Yifan’s would. And the body hair isn’t in the right places, or the right amounts, and Yifan would have given up waiting ages ago, grabbed Junmyeon’s hips, and been thrusting up into him, meeting him stroke for stroke. Putting him where he wants him, when he wants him, how he wants him. Helping Junmyeon fuck himself senseless, putting those strong arms to good use.

“Yifan,” Junmyeon finally manages to plead, the name muffled in a plastic shoulder. “Daddy, please.”

“Let me see your face,” Yifan says suddenly. “Come on, baby boy. Let me see those pretty eyes. Look at me.”

Reaching for his phone, Junmyeon does as asked. He takes the phone in one hand, the one attached to the arm wrapped around the doll’s broad shoulders, so that he can see Yifan’s face over the shoulder he’s buried his face in. 

Yifan is red-cheeked and sweating, moisture beading along his hairline, beneath his chin. His perpetually-chapped lips are swollen and dark, like he’s been chewing on them. He probably has; he likes to bite on Junmyeon, when he can. The red flush brightening his face flows down his throat and his chest in broad strokes, tapering out near his nipples, which have gone tight and dark. His ears are a flaming pop of color against the plain pale blue of his pillowcases. 

One bicep is just visible, forearm trailing out of frame, down where the dark hair starts.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Yifan grunts, and the muscles in his arm tighten and relax in a mesmerising flow as he works himself. “Oh, JunJun, baby, so pretty. You’re getting close, honey; I know it.”

He is, Junmyeon knows. Even as he clings to the doll and to the sight of a wanting Yifan, Junmyeon hasn’t stilled. He’s rocking his hips against the doll in a steady motion, letting the head of his own cock drag against those carefully-sculpted abs. He can feel the false skin getting slick, slick from his own precum, and it just makes him rock harder.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, nodding as best he can. “Daddy, ‘m so close. Feels so good.”

“Does Daddy fuck you good, Junnie?” Yifan asks, the words escaping on harsh breaths. “My cock fill you up so good? Daddy fills up your tight little ass, don’t I, honey? Make my sweetheart feel so stretched and full?”

“Oh, God,” Junmyeon moans, struggling to keep his eyes open under the onslaught of Yifan’s words. “Oh, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy….fuck,  _ fuck _ , so good, oh god.”

Yifan bites out a high-pitched whine, teeth sinking hard into his lower lip as he watches Junmyeon’s face in the shaking camera. “Oh, love, doing so good,” he groans, knowing that Junmyeon is rutting hard against the doll, now, the way he would against Yifan, if he were there. He can practically feel the slick burn of Junmyeon’s cock against his belly, the heavy smack of thighs on ass as he fucks himself hard on Yifan, the bony ache of his pelvis meeting flesh at full force.

“Junnie,” he works out. “Fuck, kitten, just like that. So tight, fuck,  _ Jun _ !”

“Feels good?” Junmyeon begs, eyes falling shut against his will. “Feels good, Daddy?”

“Feels so good, baby,” Yifan says. “Fuck, just...Just keep fucking yourself, Junnie. I wanna hear you. Wanna know what it feels like, taking Daddy's cock as deep as you can, fucking yourself so good you’re gonna feel Daddy inside you tomorrow.”

“Please!” Junmyeon wails. “Fuck, Daddy!” He chokes on an inhale, back arching improbably tight as he comes.

Yifan doesn’t even see the way his hips stutter, tiny little aborted jerks as his cock bounces, come streaking across the doll’s pale plastic skin; his eyes are squeezed shut, face screwed up in a silent scream as he, too, reaches his peak. Come spills over his hand, warm and wet, and for a moment, he lets himself think that it’s Junmyeon’s.

For a long, long stretch, the only sounds are their ragged breathing, both panting and gasping as they struggle to come back down, to find their rhythm once more.

Finally, with a weak groan, Junmyeon eases himself up out of the doll’s lap. His thighs tremble violently, and he has to brace himself against the wall to stay upright. He has to reach behind himself to work the doll’s fake cock out, and he hisses as it comes out completely. He’s never been a huge fan of the pull-out, and especially not when sex has been as rough and wild as he likes it.

“Fuck,” Yifan says, his voice that rough, husky growl that only seems to happen after really good sex.

Junmyeon searches the sheets for where the voice is coming from; at some point during the last few moments, he seems to have dropped the phone. “Fuck,” he agrees, patting through a likely-looking tumble of sheets.

“We’re doing that again, right?” Yifan asks.

When Junmyeon finds his phone, he gets a great view of the edge of Yifan’s hip. Most people probably wouldn’t call that a particularly sexy view, but Junmyeon has smushed his face against those hipbones in the wake of a mind-blowing orgasm a few too many times to not associate that particular view with a great time.

Not that he thinks the view is intentional; Junmyeon’s pretty sure that Yifan did what he did when he came, which is to say, dropped the phone in favor of...well,  _ something _ .

“Jun-ah?” Yifan asks, sounding a little concerned. There’s a rustling, a shaking, and then Yifan’s face is visible on the screen.

“Mm, sorry,” Junmyeon says, shaking his head a little. “Got distracted. But, yes. Definitely happening again.” He grins, then, while wiggling his eyebrows, says, “ _ definitely _ happening again.”

Yifan laughs, reaching up with one hand to push his sweaty hair out of his face. No sooner does he get his palm to his forehead than he freezes, lips going thin.

“There’s come in my hair, now, isn’t there?” he asks, eyes still closed.

Not even bothering to try and choke back the laugh, Junmyeon nods. “Oh, yeah. Lube, too, I suspect.”

“And I’m not even getting shower sex out of this,” Yifan whines, even as he sits up. Looking at his messy hand, he makes a face and then wipes it across his chest. “How’re you feeling, babe?”

“Impressed that you think either of us would be able to get it up for round 2 in the shower,” Junmyeon tells him. He puts the phone down on a pillow, propped so he can kind of see it and it can kind of see him. Placing his hands flat on his back, he stretches a little. “Little sore, but not bad. Not going hiking tomorrow, but not bedbound, either.”

Yifan hums his understanding. “Take some ibuprofen before you go to bed?” he asks. “Or use a heating pad?”

Junmyeon wags a finger at him on the screen. “Like I haven’t been taking your cock for years, Wu Yifan. I know how to spoil myself after a good dicking.” His smirk softens into a smile. “Even got some tricks from you, didn’t I?”

“Still wish I could be there,” Yifan grouses, watching as Junmyeon reaches for a towel, laid out at the head of his bed for just this purpose, pack of wet wipes set on top. He sits there, quiet, as Junmyeon wipes the worst of the mess off himself in quick motions, then turns his attention to the silicone pretender sharing his bed. It’s strange to see Junmyeon like this, moving in that careful, ginger way he does, ass and thighs still streaked with lube, come starting to dry on his chest, but without any of the marks that say Yifan has been there, that Yifan has done this.

“Junnie?” he asks suddenly.

Junmyeon looks back at the phone, toy-wipe still in one hand. Seeing the look on Yifan’s face, he drops the wipe and picks up his phone. “Yeah, baby?”

“You know I love you, right?” Yifan asks.

The smile he gets in return is absolutely melting, like sunshine pouring down on a spring day. “Yeah, baby,” Junmyeon says. “I know.”

\---

“Did you ever figure out where not-hyung came from?” Jongin asks, taking the stack of dishes Junmyeon has pointed him at and heading for the table. 

There are a bunch of chairs set up around it, with placemats waiting. One seat is already filled, by a silicone doll with a familiar face. It’s wearing an incredibly tacky sweater, one that features an absolutely horrifying amount of sewn-on tinsel and little fake baubles. Jongin’s almost entirely certain that Baekhyun contributed that little horror, though, knowing the members, it could easily have been Jongdae or Sehun. Sehun would find it funny, and so would Jongdae, though Jongdae would hide it behind sweet puppy dog eyes that might or might not be entirely a front.

“Yifaux?” Junmyeon asks, not even turning around now that his attention’s back on the pot on the stove. He’s not actually cooking, for which Jongin is grateful; he’s just reheating something that came from some catering service or another. “No. Still no clue.”

“And it’s at the dinner table because…?”

This does get Junmyeon to turn around, an absolutely wicked grin in place. “Because, frankly? I cannot wait to see people’s faces. I know it’s one of you lot; I just need to figure out which one.”

Chanyeol, coming back from the bathroom, cocks his head to the side. “One of us? I don’t know, hyung. Really, truly, no one seems to know. It wasn’t Jonginnie--”

“Or Taemin,” Jongin interjects. “I even had Kibum-hyung check his credit card statements. Not him.”

“Or Taemin,” Chanyeol continues, “or Baekhyun--he was ranting about how he wished he’d had the idea. We know it wasn’t Minseok or Kyungsoo, because they’re in the military, and I really doubt they’d be able to order something like this from there.”

“Wouldn’t put it past Minseok, that conniving little shit,” Junmyeon grumbles under his breath.

So that’s where the sweater came from, Jongin thinks.

“Still unlikely, hyung. Yixing’s in China, and you know he’s got people breathing down his neck every second of every day. Jongdae would totally find it funny, but we all know he wouldn’t actually do it. That’s not his style of joke. And it wasn’t Sehun, because I was with him when you sent that message to the group chat, and one does  _ not _ spray ramyeon across the table like that unless you’re entirely taken by surprise,” Chanyeol finishes.

“Great,” Junmyeon deadpans, turning around to turn the heat off under the pot. “So someone anonymously sent me a sex doll, and literally none of the people who I would feel  _ slightly _ less creeped out by doing it are the ones who did it. Thank you, Chanyeol, I feel so much better now.”

Chanyeol squints at him, even as he starts handing flatware to Jongin. “You would seriously be less creeped out if it was one of us?”

“God help me, I would,” Junmyeon sighs.

\---

As Chanyeol predicted, no one entering Junmyeon’s apartment that evening reacts in any suspicious way to the newest tablemate, nor does anyone confess to having been his purchaser. There  _ are _ some great double-takes, and at least one bewildered squawk that Junmyeon would  _ pay _ to have a recording of, to use as a ringtone for the next time Baekhyun’s calling him.

Still, they settle down to dinner, all the places filled--

(“Hyung, do I really need to put a plate out for...for that? And flatware?”

“Jongin-ah! You don’t want him feeling left out, do you?”

“...I am really starting to worry about you, hyung.”)

\--and food being passed around when the musical chime of a security keycard swiping open the doorlock sounds.

Junmyeon freezes, even as everyone seated around his table looks up.

The peep-peep-peep of the entry code being punched in is accompanied by Sehun’s “wait, who else has the key to hyung’s apartment?”, but no one seems to hear him in the wake of the silence that drops, like a bomb, when Yifan’s tall figure steps through the door.

Yifan stares at the table full of people--and one doll.

The table full of people stares back. So does the doll.

After a moment, Yifan clears his throat. “I, uh. Managed to clear my schedule?”

Junmyeon swallows. “I can tell.” Carefully setting his napkin down beside his plate, he pushes his chair back from the table and stands up.

Yifan holds very still as Junmyeon walks up to him, his jaw tight and his eyes wide, even as they flick from the table to Junmyeon to the table and back again.

Finally, Junmyeon is so close that Yifan is forced to look at him, and only him, his head angling down to see the other man’s face.

“Welcome home, baby,” Junmyeon says simply, the corners of his mouth curling up in a welcoming grin. Reaching up, he hooks a hand behind Yifan’s neck and reels him in for a soft, chaste kiss, his other hand coming up to rest flat against the other man’s dark sweater.

Yifan’s eyes flutter shut at the feeling of Junmyeon’s lips pressed against his, chaste as the action might be. One hand falls to Junmyeon’s waist, thumb curving up to brush against his ribs, fingers curling around against his back, while the other rests gently against the curve of his lover’s jaw, little more than a warm reminder that he is, in fact, here.

“I’m home,” Yifan murmurs when Junmyeon pulls back the slightest bit.

Junmyeon beams up at him. “Sehun,” he orders, not looking away from Yifan’s face. “Move down a seat. We’ve got another dinner guest.”

\---

“Let me get this straight,” Jongdae says, leaning forward, elbows propped on the table. He’s doing a masterful job of ignoring the hellacious game of cards to his left, which is swiftly descending into a wrestling match. “You’re not  _ actually _ his ex?”

Hands cradling a warm mug of tea--bless Kim Junmyeon and his love of hot beverages!--Yifan shrugs. “I kind of am?” he replies, using Mandarin, same as his old member. “I mean, we haven’t been together consistently…”

Jongdae arches an eyebrow at him. “We both know what Minseok-ge would call that.”

“Utter horseshit,” Yifan agrees, nodding. “But it’s true. We dated. We broke up. We fucked. We stopped. Now we’re...dating. Again.” He takes a hasty sip of tea, as if to stop himself from answering any further.

“Does anyone  _ else _ know about this?”

Yifan goes red to the very tips of his ears. “Uh...Han-ge.”

“You told Lu Han,” Jongdae repeats. “About your secret relationship. Fuckbuddyhood. With Junmyeon-hyung.”

“I was really, really drunk,” Yifan says, wincing. “Like, nasty break up with the real boyfriend and the publicity girlfriend, crying in Cantonese, trying to sing Mandopop from the 80’s drunk. I only know that Han-ge knows because he called me to ream me out the next morning. Well. Mid-afternoon.”

Jongdae snorts, shaking his head. “You’d  _ have _ to be drunk to tell Han-ge. You know how he gets.  _ Gooey _ .” He shares a meaningful look with Yifan.

A warm hand lands high on Yifan’s back, just around his shoulderblade. Junmyeon’s weight follows shortly thereafter, a wall of warmth and his familiar cologne behind Yifan. Leaning down, he asks, “what are you two gossiping about over here?”

“You,” Jongdae replies, bland, looking up to meet Junmyeon’s gaze.

Yifan twists, too, getting a glance at the unamused face Junmyeon is making. Smiling a little to himself, he stretches his neck a little further and presses a kiss to the underside of the other man’s chin. “Just getting interrogated,” he volunteers.

Junmyeon laughs, craning his neck to steal another kiss from Yifan, calmly ignoring Jongdae’s blatant staring. His hand, settled now on Yifan’s shoulder, squeezes tight for a moment. “Don’t forget to help yourselves to more drinks, if you want.” Then he drifts away, heading over to where Chanyeol is leaning against Jongin, watching the riotous card game.

Yifan watches him go, his heart a warm knot in his chest.

\---

“I’m sorry I interrupted your dinner party,” Yifan says, gathering up the mugs that have ended up all over Junmyeon’s apartment. Walking into the kitchen, he adds, “I swear, I was planning on just surprising you. Not everyone.”

Gesturing towards the edge of the sink, Junmyeon shakes his head. “We were going to have to say something at some point,” he tells him, rinsing down a plate. “I mean, I, for one, was getting kind of tired of hearing you described as my  _ ex _ .” He grabs another plate.

“Still,” Yifan says. He steps up behind Junmyeon, so that the smaller man is pressed up against his chest. He slides his arms around Junmyeon’s hips, embracing him comfortably. “I probably could have found a more diplomatic method,” he says, resting his chin on Junmyeon’s shoulder.

Junmyeon shrugs, laughing at the way the motion jolts Yifan’s head. “Eh. Let’s be honest; this is the most us method of them finding out we’re back together.”

Yifan snorts, burying his face in Junmyeon’s shoulder. “You’re not wrong about that. How many of them walked in on us the first time we got together?”

“I still struggle to convince Jinki-hyung that we didn’t have a thing for exhibitionism,” Junmyeon says. He sets aside the plate, then twists within Yifan’s embrace to face him. “But I’m glad to have you all to myself, tonight.” Rocking up onto the tips of his toes, he hooks both arms around Yifan’s neck, and presses a warm, inviting kiss to his lips. “I’m glad your schedules worked out, baby.”

Pulling him close with one arm, Yifan reaches up with the other hand to trail fingers down the side of Junmyeon’s face. “I’m all yours, whenever you want me,” he promises, the words a deep rumble between their close-pressed chests. He kisses Junmyeon, eyes slipping shut as the other man’s lips part beneath his own. 

They kiss like that for a few minutes, enjoying one another’s warmth and presence, uncaring of the fact that they are standing in the kitchen, a sink full of soapy water behind them, a counter covered in dishes still waiting to be washed beside them. Arms wrapped around one another, they sway together, kissing each other the way they have wanted to for some time, taking time to reacquaint themselves with each other, remembering how they feel in one another’s arms, how they kiss each other, how they love.

Junmyeon finally draws away slowly, tired of the edge of the sink digging into his back. Even as his eyes flutter open, he reaches behind himself and fumbles for the tap.

Grinning a little, Yifan stretches out an arm and shuts the water off for him, then flicks the switch that opens the drain at the bottom of the sink. 

Junmyeon stops trying to dislocate his own shoulder, draws his arm back between the pair of them. He smoothes a hand down Yifan’s chest, letting his fingers come to rest midway down the man’s torso. Cocking his head to the side, he asks, “whenever?”

Yifan’s eyes go dark. “Whenever, wherever, however.”

Junmyeon’s lips curl into a smile.

\---

Stretched out in the hotel bed, still damp with the sweat of a  _ very _ pleasant workout, Lu Han flicks on his phone. The group chat’s been blowing up for a while, but, sue him, he had much more muscular things to pay attention to. Now, however, Minseok is sprawled out beside him, still catching his breath, come streaked across his belly, sweat shining beneath his buzzcut.

“Who’s so eager to get you?” Minseok asks, finally, flopping out a hand to land in the small of Lu Han’s back. 

Lu Han revels in the light, drowsy scratching of Minseok’s short-trimmed nails against his skin, but makes himself answer. “Sehun. Looks like he finally figured out why drunk us thought it would be a good idea to get Junmyeonnie that particular gift. And why  _ really _ drunk Sehun agreed.”

That gets Minseok’s attention. Rolling upright, he cocks an eyebrow at his partner. 

Lu Han’s grin is positively feral. “Apparently, Yifan came to surprise Junmyeon. Pity there was a whole dinner party in his apartment at the time.”

Minseok falls back against the mattress, positively cackling. “You’re kidding.”

Smirking, Lu Han turns the screen of his phone towards the other man. He waits until Minseok has it firmly in hand, then folds his arms back under his own head, chin propped where they cross. He watches Minseok’s face.

Accepting the phone, Minseok thumbs down Lu Han and Sehun’s chat to the picture he can just see the bottom of. And the photo—

“That is a work of art,” Minseok says, grinning broadly. “I don’t think I knew Chanyeol’s eyes could get that big without coming out of his head.”

Lu Han laughs, letting his eyes fall shut. “Remind me to send Sehun a thank you for that photo. The looks on their faces? Yifan’s deer-in-the-headlights impersonation? The sex doll wearing a tacky Christmas sweater at the table? Fuck, that’s worth every single drunken won we spent on that damn thing.”

Minseok taps the button on the side of the phone, locking it once more, and reaches out to put Lu Han’s phone beside his own on the bedside table. Rolling onto his side, he props himself up on one arm, face on his own fist. The other, he drapes across Lu Han’s naked back, fingertips teasing at the edge of the sheet where it lies across his lover’s flushed ass.

Tiredly, Lu Han cracks an eye open. Seeing the hazy droop of Minseok’s eyes, he closes his once again. “We should probably clean up,” he mumbles, making no move to get up.

Snorting, Minseok flicks a finger against Lu Han’s rear, then pulls the sheet up a little higher on Lu Han’s hips, even as he wriggles to lay down beside him. “Mm, I’ll wait,” he sighs, arm curling around so that his fingers slot against Lu Han’s ribs. “I’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Lu Han snorts into his arms. “You hate dried come,” he reminds him.

“I hate leaving a warm bed with a sleepy HanHan more,” Minseok says. With a grunt, he situates himself so that he, too, is lying on his belly. He gives Lu Han a gentle squeeze, already drifting off.

“I’ll remind you of that,” Lu Han says, words muffled by his arms, slurred by sleep. Still, he snuggles closer, already drifting off.

Beside him, Minseok just smiles.

This holiday, things really have worked out.

**  
  
  
  
  
  
**

**Author's Note:**

> As you might have noticed, this is now a part of a series--Happy Hoe-lidays! It looks like I'm doing annual KrisHos, so...yeah. Be ready for that.


End file.
